fine
by KuraGonzalez
Summary: Nothing is fine. Everything is complete and utter shit.


C gave me this prompt: _A concept: Seth feeling helpless about Dean's situation and having to fulfil his obligations with WWE and teaming with Jason even if he doesn't want to. He must smile for the cameras with the title, but deep down he's dying, and the thought of Dean is killing him at night._ I hope I delivered. I wrote this in an hour or so? Just to see if I still can write at all XD Not really edited either, so you can have all mistakes as late xmas gifts *tehe* Oh, and happy new year y'all. Thanks for sticking with me and these two silly boys.

* * *

It's fine.

It's fine. _It's fine_.

Seth has no idea how often Dean has whispered those three words into the phone until he passed out, his very own lullaby haunting him in his dreams.

It's fine.

It isn't. Nothing is _fine_. Everything is complete and utter shit.

Seth has the beautiful red title back, yes, but that's it. He feels more than guilty that he was so freaking happy when the three count was over and the bell rang. He had reclaimed his tag team throne and celebrated his victory in the heat of the moment. The backlash he got for that on social media is nothing compared to what he went through once he realized what exactly had happened.

That's when Dean first said it, completely honest and with the slightest hint of pride in his voice. It's fine.

Dean has been nothing but supportive, congratulated him, even soothed Seth the whole night, assuring him he was not mad at all. That it wasn't Seth's fault he got paired with Jordan. That Dean is just glad Sheamus and Cesaro got what they deserved. That he understands Seth wanted to take care of their tag team business and left Joe to Roman. After all, these three men all played a role in Deans injury.

 _It's fine_.

These two words are echoing in his mind relentlessly, the gentle tone making him feel sick. Frustrated, he throws the title off the bed, watching it shimmer accusingly in the moonlight.

The belt means nothing to him. Sure, he is relieved it's back around his waist, back where it belongs, but this championship run is meaningless because the one person he _wanted_ by his side for this is not here. The one man Seth _needed_ to reign supreme with is thousands of miles away, unable to defend this red and silver baby with him for nine months. _Nine months_.

And yet, all he hears from Dean is a constant loop of a loving, tender _it's fine_.

When he cries into the phone, self-hatred and disgust crawling up his throat, hurting his trachea so badly he is convinced he's trying to cough up needles and razor blades, Dean comforts him calmly, being the voice of reason that tells him he _should_ be elated to be a two time RAW tag team champion, no matter who it is with.

When Seth wakes up in the middle of the night, bathed in sweat, his skin itching horribly where Jason touched it, and his first and only instinct is to call Dean, he gets a sleepy but understanding _don't worry, babe_.

No matter what he does, how much he loathes himself for being weak, how much hate he gets from fans for only caring about championships and not Dean, his brother – his partner – is there, on the phone, trying to banish the bad thoughts with a simple it's fine.

But it's not. That Dean is injured is anything but. That Seth can no longer enjoy them teaming up and traveling around as a family again, that he can't cuddle up to Dean at night, breathing in the familiar scent of home, all these things are far from being okay.

And Dean saying _it's fine_ like a broken record is the worst thing of them all. It shouldn't be for either of them.

'It's not,' he breathes into his phone, barely louder than the wind rustling through the treetops outside and Dean sighs, clearing his throat to help him wake up enough to have this conversation at three something in the morning.

'Nope, but whaddya want me to say, Seth? 'm not gonna jump on the blame Rollins bandwagon.'

All he wants is the cold, harsh truth. What everyone has been telling him these past two weeks. That he hasn't changed at all. That he is still the biggest piece of garbage out of the three of them and should be beaten to a bloody pulp once Dean finally returns.

When he stays silent for too long – somehow still afraid of hearing things he couldn't take from the one person whose opinion he values the most – Dean chuckles lowly and Seth closes his eyes to image they are lying in the same bed, Dean's body warmth engulfing him like a second blanket, pulling him into a safe headspace.

'I hate it.'

He knew it. Fine, his ass.

'I hate seeing daddy's boy taking away your smile.' What? But that is not– _what_?

'You don't smile anymore. Your lips twist into something that might fool everyone but you can't bullshit me, Seth. You're not happy and I fucking hate that more than you can possibly imagine. I'm out for God knows how long, ya gotta move on, kiddo. I want you to climb that mountain without me. Cause I don't care about what others say, I know it's killing you that you've lost me as your tag partner after everything we went through in the past, what, five years or so. It sucks. This whole things _sucks_ but it's what it is. Now I need you to be strong and raise hell for me. Most of all, I need you to smile.'

And for the first time since Dean has been brutally ripped out of his life again, Seth's lips twitch in amusement, a tiny snicker leaving his mouth.

Nine months. That's the timeframe he has to make Dean proud, to prove every single day he hasn't lost his inner light, to show he _can_ keep promises.

Nine months until they can take on the world together again. And until then, Seth will make a man out of Jason, be a good little brother to Roman and spend as much free time as possible with the only guy on this planet that can make his heart flutter excitedly while the whole world seems to be crashing down on him.

 _It's fine_.

Maybe, it isn't now. But one day it can be.


End file.
